


Rhyme or Reason

by InOmniaParatus



Series: Five Word Sentences [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: M/M, One Shot, allusions to off-camera sexual abuse, please be aware this isn't a cheerful fic, underaged character of unspecified age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:43:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6722659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InOmniaParatus/pseuds/InOmniaParatus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Eggsy Unwin was kidnapped six months ago, held prisoner in Harry's cellar...and he's finally made a run for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rhyme or Reason

**Author's Note:**

  * For [D34THR4C3R](https://archiveofourown.org/users/D34THR4C3R/gifts).



> I'm using the "five word prompts" that were floating around tumblr to get into the writing groove. This is the first of those.  
> "Ashes, we all fall down."  
> It was changed a bit, because in the UK the rhyme is slightly different. I chose this prompt to start it off because I thought my friend would like where it went. Because he's lovely and listens to me complain a lot. Mostly because he's lovely. 
> 
> I obviously don't condone the kidnapping of children.

“ _Ring-a-ring o’ roses_.”  
  
The words, echoing and sing-song, filled the empty house, punctuated by the soft, steady cadence of posh shoes on creaking stairs.  
  
Eggsy’s trembling fingers struggled with the doorknob, putting all of his slight weight into it.  
  
“Pleasepleaseplease,” he whispered, to no avail. The door wasn’t just locked, it was bolted shut.  
  
Panting and frantic, Eggsy took off out of the kitchen and away from the cellar door. His bare feet made little sound on the kitchen tile and less on the plush carpet in the hall.  
  
“ _A pocketful of posies_.”  
  
The voice no longer had that echoing quality that told Eggsy his captor was still coming up from the cellar, from what he called _Eggsy’s room_ , as if Eggsy was a guest or worse, his son.  
  
Harry—or at least, that’s what he’d said his name was. _Call me Harry, my darling boy_ —had carelessly set down the scissors after Eggsy had complained that the tiny shorn curls tickled as they landed on his bare torso. When he’d returned with a towel, Eggsy stabbed as hard as he could and sprinted up the stairs as fast as his little legs would carry him.  
  
Eggsy skidded to a halt at the front door, but didn’t try to open it. He could see that it was even more securely bolted than the other.  
  
“ _A-tishoo, a-tishoo_.”  
  
He spun around, shocked. Harry was on the opposite end of the hall, his tall frame back-lit by the kitchen. Eggsy couldn’t see his face or how badly he was hurt, but he could see, in painful slow motion, as he took a step forward.    
  
The boy took off, up the stairs like a shot. He knew he was trapped, knew he had no chance of escape, but hoped rather naively that he could—maybe, if he was lucky—trick Harry into thinking he’d escaped. If he could hide well enough, Harry might think he had gotten out somehow, crawled out the window and down a drain pipe, anything.  
  
On the landing, he looked from side to side, weighing his options. He’d never been allowed to wander upstairs. He’d been allowed in Harry’s bedroom a handful of times, but stayed securely cuffed to the bed. Eggsy had no way of knowing which doors were linen cupboards or loos, and which were rooms with ample hiding places.  
  
“Come back down, Eggsy,” Harry called up the stairs, his voice as deceptively pleasant as it ever was. “I’m not cross with you.”

Thinking that it’s better the devil you know than the one you don’t, Eggsy dashed into Harry’s bedroom and opened the door he thought led to Harry’s clothes cupboard. breathing a sigh of relief when it did.  
  
The cupboard was large, filled with the suits and cardigans that Eggsy had seen Harry wear over these past few months, with large shelf across the top covered in neatly folded spare duvets.  
  
“Eggsy. Let’s not make things worse than they are,” Harry continued from the hall. “I’m not badly hurt—just a scratch, really. Come on back to your room, darling, and we’ll draw a line under this whole mess.”

Wiping his sweaty palms on a pinstriped waistcoat, Eggsy started to climb. He’d taken gymnastics classes, before—well, before. He’d been pretty good at it, too, according to the coach. He was weaker, now. Months of being locked up in his room without exercise or fresh air had taken their toll his small body, but he managed to clamber up onto the shelf and lay down, covered in  blankets.  
  
He held his breath when Harry walked in and switched on the light, worried that his frightened panting would give his hiding spot away. Peeking from under his soft covers, he watched Harry look behind boxes and move hangers in the cupboard.  
  
Harry’s crisp, white button-down was dark with blood on his left side, and his long-fingered hands were covered in it. Eggsy had caused more than a scratch, to be sure, but Harry didn’t even seem to be winded.  
  
He wondered if Harry really was as invincible as he had seemed in the beginning, taller and stronger than anyone else Eggsy knew. He also wondered, perhaps more urgently, if Harry would stop searching the cupboard before Eggsy was forced to take another breath.  
  
He’d no sooner wondered than Harry turned and re-entered his bedroom, singing once again.  
  
“ _Ring-a-ring o’ roses_.”  
  
Eggsy let go the breath he was holding, filling his lungs with precious oxygen.  
  
“ _A pocketful of posies_.”  
  
Harry returned, briefly, and switched off the light.  
  
“ _A-tishoo, a-tishoo_.”  
  
The door closed with small click.  
  
He’d done it. He’d hidden well enough to trick Harry. He was warm and safe, and soon Harry would go out—go to work, or to the shops, anywhere—and Eggsy could find a way back home, to his mum, and his friends and—  
  
A sticky-wet weight settled onto his bare calf, wrapped easily around it with long, firm fingers that Eggsy would know anywhere.  
  
“We all fall down.”


End file.
